


Service Dog

by rboudreau



Series: West the Service Dog [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Fluff, Ian and Mickey get a dog, Kinda, M/M, Pretty much all fluff, Service Dogs, Therapy Dog, and talk about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rboudreau/pseuds/rboudreau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey get a service/therapy dog for Ian</p>
            </blockquote>





	Service Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teamwinchesterbros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamwinchesterbros/gifts).



> I in no way am associated with Shameless. Just the fandom.
> 
> This was based on a prompt I wrote for teamwinchesterbros on Tumblr (If someone were to write an incredibly cute, fluffy gallavich getting a dog story it’d be greatly appreciated) [I hope you like it!]
> 
> Also, I watered down the whole "how to get a service dog" thing, mainly because a lot goes into being able to get a service dog, and I really just wanted this to be a short little thing. I'll post more info about service dogs in the notes at the end for those interested.
> 
> And finally, this is the first fic I've written in a couple years, and it's my first Gallavich fic, so please bare with my rusty writing.

“You’re sure about this?” Mickey asked.

Ian nodded, placing his hand against Mickey’s lower back and guiding him through the facility. “The therapist said it would be a good idea. You agreed to this weeks ago, Mick.”

“Yea, I know. Just…you’re sure you don’t want a cat or a rabbit or something? She didn't say it had to be a dog.”

Ian stopped and faced Mickey with a look of amusement on his face. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

“Fuck off, I’m not afraid of no fucking dog. I’m just saying, a dog might be a lot to handle.”

“As opposed to handling being bipolar?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean, shithead. You've got enough going on without having to take care of a dog too.”

Ian sighed and tugged Mickey closer to him. “You know it’s not _just_ a dog. It’s a service dog. It’ll help with my anxiety and my depression, and help me remember to take my pills, and it’ll give me a reason to get out of bed every day. It’ll put less pressure on you to take care of me all the time.”

“I like taking care of you,” Mickey admitted, leaning his forehead against Ian’s.

He grinned. “I know. But you can’t keep worrying about me all the time. You've gotta go to work and take care of Yev. We've spent weeks saving up money for this dog so that you don’t have to take care of me all the time anymore.”

Mickey scoffed. “Trying to get rid of me now?” Ian grinned and nodded.

“Absolutely. ‘Bout time you took the hint,” he teased. Mickey shoved Ian slightly, who just laughed and pulled him back in, pressing a kiss against his head. “Now come on. Let’s go get our dog.”

***

Ian ran his hand over the dog’s head gently. Mickey couldn't help but notice the smile on Ian’s face, and it made him smile too.

It took a lot for them to get here. Ian had been in his depressive episode for almost three weeks before he finally started to come around again. In addition to that, it took Mickey and the Gallagher’s another two weeks to convince Ian to go see a doctor. He was diagnosed just like they thought – bipolar disorder – and had been given a referral to a therapist. He’d been started on a combination of medications that, thankfully, were covered by Fiona’s insurance at a new job she’d gotten. 

Still, it took a while for the drugs to do their job and Ian had to switch dosages and medications several times before they found a combination that worked best for him. He still had some ups and downs because, after all, the medication _helped_ , it wasn't a cure. Mickey had gone on a rant about how _“It’s fucking 2014, how the fuck is there no cure for this shit yet? Lip, you’re supposed to be some genius, go figure out a damn cure already.”_ (Lip had rolled his eyes. “Yea, sure, man, it’s that easy. I’ll get right on it.”)

A couple of months ago, Ian’s therapist had suggested looking into getting a service dog. She gave them a bunch of reading material on the benefits of service animals with bipolar disorder along with the names of a couple organizations that trained service dogs. 

After looking into it, they learned that a service dog would help out with lots of Ian’s disorder. It would be trained specifically for Ian and know how to calm him down from manic episodes, ease his depression, and could be trained to remind Ian to take his pills at specific times. It would also force him to get out of bed every day to take the dog on walks, making sure he had social interaction every day.

The only downside to service dogs was that they cost money. Training them wasn't cheap, but they had some donations from people at the Alibi that have known Ian since he was a kid and felt bad enough to donate what they had left in their pockets at the end of the day. They managed to convince Clayton to give them a few grand, too. (It was mostly Mickey and Lip’s idea, but Ian had gone along with it after a while.)

_“I’m not asking you to be my dad,”_ he’d said. _“I’ve already had a dad, and he sucked, so there’s no point in trying to have another one. I’m just asking if you’d be willing to give me some cash so I can get this dog that will make me not want to kill myself when I get depressed. I don’t care if you don’t talk to me after that, but you owe me **something**. You fucked Monica, you got her pregnant with me, and I got screwed with the crazy gene. All I want is to be normal again, and not make my boyfriend have to hide the fucking knives whenever I’m having an episode. Can you **please** just help me out this one time?”_

Clayton had agreed, giving Ian what was left of what Ian’s grandmother had sent him before she died – around $6,000. 

Ian grinned as the dog, a 1 year old golden retriever, nuzzled his face with his nose. Mickey would never admit how his stomach flipped seeing Ian happy again. “Mick, I think I’m in love.”

Mickey scoffed and knelt down beside them, running his fingers through the dog’s fur. “I thought you were already in love with me,” he joked.

“I’m very in love with you,” he replied easily. Mickey met his eyes and couldn't stop the smile that started growing on his face. He returned his attention to the dog, scratching his fingers behind it’s ear.

“Yea, you’re not so bad yourself, firecrotch.” He ignored the smile on Ian’s face and changed the subject. “So, what do you wanna name him?”

Ian thinks about it for a minute, pressing his lips against the dog’s head. He chuckles as the dog nuzzles him again. “I’m gonna name him West.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Why West?”

Ian shrugged. “Closest I’ll ever get to West Point, now.” Mickey sighed and rested his hand against the back of Ian’s head.

“You’re a sentimental fuck, you know that, Gallagher?” He pulled Ian closer until he could kiss him. Mickey felt the dog nudge his hand and smiled, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Alright, alright. What’d’ya say we bring West home now?”

Ian grinned and nodded, standing up and grabbing West’s leash. He grabbed Mickey’s hand with his free hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulled Mickey to stand. Mickey started to walk toward the exit, but was stopped by Ian. He looked back at him questioningly. 

Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s temple and smiled softly. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Mickey attempted to shrug it off. “It’s just a dog.” Ian shook his head. 

“Not just for the dog. For always taking care of me. For everything. I really love you.”

Mickey closed his eyes and leaned into Ian’s embrace for a moment. “Told you I’d do anything for you, didn't I?” Ian nodded and kissed him. “I love you too,” he admitted. Ian smiled widely and let out a small laugh, pressing their foreheads even tighter together.

“I know.” He exhaled slowly and let Mickey out of his grasp. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments/kudos you'd be willing to give. Like I said, this is my first Gallavich fic, so I appreciate any feedback.
> 
> For those more interested in the service dog process, you can look at the following websites: 
> 
> http://bipolar.about.com/od/disability/a/servicedogs.htm  
> http://www.pawsitivityservicedogs.com/psychiatric.html  
> http://www.everydayhealth.com/bipolar-disorder/how-pets-can-help-bipolar-disorder.aspx  
> http://4pawsforability.org/faq/


End file.
